Super Target
by WinJennster
Summary: Dean loves his new domestic hobbies. Cooking, grocery shopping, picking out Hello Kitty blankets? Fluffy Destiel, Domestic!Dean fic.


_So, I'm writing this other fic, Lost and Found, and it's kinda heavy, a lot of physical and emotional whump, and while I love it, love writing it, sometimes I need a break. So I've been writing these fluffy little Destiel pieces. Here's my latest, please enjoy!_

* * *

The weirdest adjustment, for Dean anyway, is the grocery store.

He's used to grabbing stuff on the fly, in little gas station shops, or diners, or fast food joints. Usually, when he buys anything that qualifies as groceries, it's easy crap, stuff that has to be microwaved or toaster ovened, stuff he can make in a crappy motel room.

But now, Dean has a home. He has a kitchen, complete with a fridge, a deep freeze, pots and pans, a stove and an oven.

They actually _don't _have a microwave.

So now, when he goes to the store, he doesn't buy pre-made burger patties, he buys ground chuck, forms the patties himself, and either broils them or goes outside to use the grill he convinced Sam they needed, brushing his own homemade glaze on as they finish cooking, then serving them up on toasted rolls with hand-cut french fries.

He doesn't buy frozen pancakes, he buys eggs, and flour, baking soda, vanilla, and buttermilk, and makes the mix from scratch, dropping them onto a sizzling buttered griddle, waiting until the bubbles rise to the surface, then flipping the pancakes with a skilled wrist, while he fries bacon in a skillet.

This afternoon, Dean even washed romaine leaves, chopped chicken from last night's dinner, diced hard boiled eggs and tomatoes, crumbled bacon, and made fresh blue cheese dressing, then presented his surprised and grateful little brother with a magazine quality Cobb salad, which Sam told him through stuffed mouthfuls was the best he'd ever had.

And pie. God, he makes so much pie. He went out and bought a Martha Stewart guide to baking, and painstakingly taught himself to make perfect pastry crust. Then he learned fillings. Apple. Blueberry. Cherry. Lemon. Taught himself how to whip up perfect light meringue, even looked up Alton Brown's method of making it so the nasty condensation wouldn't show up in between the meringue and the lemon filling.

He made Coconut Cream Pie, which he quickly discovered made his health conscious brother lose any semblance of control. He'd stuffed his face so fast, and when Dean went back for a second piece around midnight, he was surprised to find Sam forking the rest of it into his mouth, straight out of the pie plate, a guilty grin on his face.

"Mmmfffgoooddd," he'd mumbled, and Dean had smiled, and quietly added coconut to the grocery list.

Now, if he was on Sam's laptop, instead of porn, he was looking at recipes. There were copies of Food Network Magazine, Gourmet, and Cooking lying around the Batcave now, along with Good Housekeeping and Martha Stewart Living, which Dean hordes and hides with his Busty Asian Beauties and swears he only reads for the recipes.

There's a dry erase board stuck to the fridge, and that's where Dean makes his list. Sometimes Sam will add things he wants, like oranges or Greek yogurt, but with Dean's expanded repertoire, Sam's had to ask for very little, Dean's usually one step ahead of him.

In fact, ask him about what he misses most when out on the job, and Sam will tell you it's his brother's cooking.

This Saturday finds Dean at the store, a thick wad of bills in his pocket that he'd earned in a poker game on the road. He'd managed to win over $2000 with his card sharking ways, and he's psyched, because he's been wanting to treat Sam to some really good steaks, like a porterhouse, and they need stuff, like laundry detergent, and Sam's desperate for new socks, so Super Target won out.

Dean catches himself humming "The Ocean" as he pushes a buggy through the store, list in hand, carefully making his choices and adding them to the cart. Shopping is far more fun and satisfying with money in hand.

Still, Dean was unprepared for what his shopping experience would be like with an angel in tow.

Cas popped up just as Dean was preparing to leave and insisted on tagging along.

He's in awe of Super Target. He has to touch everything. Offer commentary on everything.

He'd be driving Dean crazy except that Dean's got a blind spot for the angel.

Which is why they end up with two full buggies by the end of the trip.

Sam watches with little more than a raised eyebrow as they unpack the bags.

Cas helpfully explains why each item was purchased.

There's the Pioneer Woman cookbook. (I thought it looked like the type of food Dean enjoys.)

A 1000 Vegan Recipes cookbook. (That's for you Sam.)

A black Led Zeppelin shirt. (Dean's favorite band, and they had it in his size. I should have gotten you one as well. I am sorry, Sam.)

Dean chuckles at this point, seeing as how _he_ actually paid for this stuff, and Sam doesn't miss how fondly he smiles at Cas.

Three cases of different beer maker variety packs. (I wanted to try them all.)

An oddly misshapen pack of toilet paper. (It looked lonely.)

A pair of fuzzy fleece sleep pants with yellow ducks printed on them. (They're soft.)

And a vibrant pink fleece Hello Kitty blanket. (The cat is sweet, and it's soft and fuzzy. I like soft and fuzzy.)

Sam says nothing, but watches as his brother smiles indulgently at the angel, and takes the Zep shirt, the pants, the blanket, and a new pillow and sets them in his own room.

So it's like that, Sam thinks. About friggin' time.

Then Dean is barking at everyone to help put the groceries away, he's got steaks to grill.


End file.
